power trip
by astarisms
Summary: she's always held all the power in their relationship, but he's determined to turn the tables.


There's something inexplicably powerful about knowing someone's weakest points. He's always prided himself in being able to pinpoint where someone's vulnerabilities lie, but it's difficult with her.

She's always been difficult and it frustrates him.

What's even more frustrating is that she doesn't even try to make it hard. She's always been an open book, she wears her heart on her sleeve and she bleeds her intentions. From the beginning, all the power in their relationship has been on her table.

And she forfeit it all.

To someone like him, who thrives off of being bigger, better, badder, it's unfathomable. He keeps the power he possesses in an iron grip and savors the taste of fear on his tongue.

Her restraint in abusing hers when he was under her thumb is its own kind of power. He thinks that she is stronger than him, in that regard, because he would rather carve out his own wings than give up that kind of high.

It's that simple realization that makes him so desperate to know.

The first time he kisses her she stumbles back and stares up at him in awe. He wonders if he's made a mistake, if he's misread her yet again, but then she smiles and laughs and pulls him back to her.

It feels like he's letting go of a breath that he didn't know he was holding. Hell being silenced had brought him peace of mind, but she brings him a peace of soul that he had never known.

But as intoxicating as her lips are, as much as her giggles and the way her mouth curves against his makes him feel more at home than he ever has, it's not what he's looking for.

He gets a little bolder. One day, he pulls away from her just enough to skim his lips down her cheek and across her chin. She's trying to catch her breath, panting in his ear, but she's immediately responsive to him. She tilts her head, and he traces the curve of her jaw with his tongue.

Her already unsteady breathing hitches, and he thinks he's getting close. Nimble fingers fist in the front of his shirt, and he skims his nose down the creamy column of her throat. He starts at the base and works his way up, slowly. Her heartbeat picks up and she whimpers.

The sound nearly has him at his wit's end, and the vanilla and lavender scent that lingers on her skin long after her showers makes him ravenous. He's always had a taste for sweet things, he thinks. When he grazes his fangs over her jugular she jumps, a whine caught in her throat.

She releases his shirt and slips her hands into his hair after that, bringing his lips back to hers. He pulls her too roughly against him, and she smiles again.

He hasn't found what he's searching for yet, but they've only just begun.

He decides to get creative. She asks him to fasten a necklace for her, and while he'd normally refuse just to watch her fuss, he has an idea. His fingertips skim the nape of her neck as he sweeps her hair aside, and he watches with dark eyes as she shivers in the mirror.

She holds the ends of the necklace up for him and he clasps the two together, but her thank you is cut short when he smooths his hands over her shoulders. He grips the tops of her arms and pulls her back against his chest. His lips are light along the back of her neck, and he feels her tense.

Her protest gets stuck when he moves to her shoulder, and her head lolls to the opposite side, sighing in contentment. He slips the strap of her shirt down her arm, baring her skin to him. Curious, he retraces his steps to the base of her neck and sucks, lightly at first and then harder.

The sound she makes in response is strangled, and her knees give out. If it weren't for his hands on her arms, he's entirely convinced she would be on the floor. He soothes the spot with his tongue, and she reaches up to grab his fingers. It's not what he wants, though, and when he's sure she's steady he releases her and steps back.

She scrambles to find a scarf to cover the new purple spot on her neck.

It's easier now that he knows how willing she is to try new things. She hasn't been adverse to anything he's tried thus far, which gives him the confidence to go further. With her pressed up against her wall, he drops his head to the crook of her neck, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt to pull her closer.

The collar of her shirt is the only boundary he adheres to now. He drops a kiss just above it, then across her chest, until he reaches his destination.

She arches when he teases her collarbone with teeth and she gasps when he flicks his tongue into the dip. Her fingers curl in his hair and she lets her head fall back. He exhales on her chest and she shivers.

He raises his head and she catches something indiscernible in his eyes before he takes her lips again. She's a little taken aback by how insistent he is, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't like it a little. His tongue teases apart her lips and all train of thought vanishes.

He's getting impatient.

There is so much more to cover, but the fact that he hasn't found that spot yet frustrates him. She has to have one, that special somewhere that makes her unravel instantly. He's already tried the obvious spots though.

She stands in front of him and he lets his eyes trail up her body languidly. She's his now, he's allowed to admire, and the crop top she's wearing is almost indecent from his angle.

But it provides a good opportunity. He reaches out for the belt loop of her jeans and tugs her towards him, holding her eyes as he closes his mouth over her navel. She squeaks and sucks her stomach in, trying to squirm away, but he winds his arm around her waist and traps her.

He kisses his way up, to just beneath the wire of her bra, and savors the way her stomach ripples. She stumbles and reaches out to brace herself on his shoulders, biting her lip against a moan.

He makes his way back to her belly button, dipping his tongue into her navel. Her nails dig into his skin and she curls over him, arching away from him and keening in his ear.

Smirking, he releases her, giving her a minute to let her gather her bearings again. He knows it's not what he's looking for, but goddamn if the way she responds to him doesn't have an effect on him, too.

She thinks she knows what he's trying to do. She would be sorely mistaken, but he appreciates the effort that goes into her crop tops and the tiny pair of shorts she's wearing today. She's not leaving the house in them, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

Her fingers are quickly twisting her hair into a braid as she prepares to leave, and she sits on the bed to pull her shoes on. He's sprawled on the bed behind her, arms tucked behind his head, watching her with lazy eyes.

When she's finished tugging on her sneakers, she leans over to peck him goodbye. He grabs her around the waist, though, pulling her over top of him. She goes red, and pushes against his chest, but his hold is strong.

She knows she's not going anywhere he doesn't want her to when he rolls them over, caging her in with his arms. She looks up at him with wide eyes, but before she can voice her question he's already kissing her.

He pins her wrists the to bed, but he doesn't linger on her lips long. He skims his nose down her throat, kisses the center of her chest, and traces from her navel to the waistband of her shorts with his tongue. She arches and recoils, her face flushing a deep red.

He has to let go of her wrists when he settles between her legs, and she gasps when he raises one to settle her calf on his shoulder. She flounders, trying to squirm away, but he closes his teeth around the meat of her thigh as a warning.

The breath leaves her in a whoosh, and she twists her wrists until her fingers curl into the sheets by her head.

He watches her carefully as he trails his lips along the length of her thigh, and then turns his head to catch the bend of her knee. Her leg jerks out of his grasp, and she quickly sits up, breathing hard. She looks conflicted, but after a second she shoots up and grabs her bag, rushing out of the room and yelling something about being late.

He laughs to himself, before he realizes she left in those shorts.

He's almost out of ideas. He knows that there's somewhere that will spark a stronger reaction, a visceral, carnal one that he can use to turn her into putty, he just needs to find it.

She comes into her room, a question on her tongue, but he doesn't hear it. He would thank God if he had any interest in talking to his father, but he doesn't. Even if he did he doubted he'd want Him intruding on this moment, because she's rifling through her drawers looking for the shirt she misplaced in only a white bra and a pair of shorts.

She really does have exceedingly high expectations of him.

Triumphant when she finds the top she's looking for, she slips it over her head, as if completely unaware of his presence just behind her. At least, she seems to be until she needs him to tie the strings in the back.

He wonders where she's gotten all these clothes he's never seen before lately, but he doesn't voice the question. This is the opportunity he's been waiting for.

She comes over to him, turning to give him her back. He takes the strings and tugs her back a few more steps, hearing her gasp in surprise.

Instead of tying it, he lets it fall open. She has a dimple on her left side, and he ducks his head to kiss it. She giggles and tries to step away from him, but he slips his hand around her waist, pressing against the flat of her stomach to keep her anchored in place.

She loses her breath when she realizes he's not playing, feeling his mouth travel across her back until he gets to the dip just above her waistband. There's a beat, before he starts his ascent, gripping her hip as he rises the further up he goes until he's standing, too.

It's a slow climb. He takes his time, teasing her spine with his tongue, taking her skin between his teeth. He knows she would let him devour her in that moment. Every breath she takes is shaky, and she covers the hand on her stomach with her own and threads their fingers together.

When he reaches the top, he rests his forehead against the base of her neck. He exhales slowly, out of ideas, and she twists around to look at him. He lifts his eyes to meet hers and she opens her mouth. In a split second of clarity, one last attempt to find what makes her tick, he surges up and traces the shell of her ear with his tongue.

The words catch in her throat and the sound that comes out instead is a strangled, broken little thing. It sets his blood on fire, and his own breath hitches.

He kisses the back of her ear and then nibbles on the bump just beneath it. She inhales sharply, her hold on his fingers tightening, and he presses her harder into him. When he takes her lobe between his teeth, she moans, loud and unabashed, and drops her head onto his shoulder. His grip on her tightens, both in his own response to her reactions and because she slumps against him, her knees going weak.

This is it. This is the reaction he's been waiting for. This is the spot that he's been searching for, the one that has her melting beneath him, the one that gives him power over her.

He's found her weak point and he's not letting her go.

By the grip she has on his hand, she doesn't want him to, either.


End file.
